Street Child
by Rosalina Kaydon
Summary: This is an alternative ending to the story and begins with Miss Minchin throwing Sara out, not keeping her as a slave in the attic...
1. The Beginning

A/N: I had to change Sara's age to fit the rest of the story. She is about 14. I'm not a very good writer, but I love this story – please R&R – constructive criticism rather than story - bashing.

Sara heard the door slam behind her. She looked over her shoulder to see if, somehow, someone was there to save her. But of course there wasn't. A tear grew in the corner of her eye and fell down her cheek. "Oh Papa," she whispered, "Is this what you have wanted for your 'Little Missus'?" She sighed, wiped her tears away and gathered up her shawl, picked up her bag and was about to start walking.

But she suddenly remembered that she had nowhere to go. So she went to Baker Street station to get a map. When she had been rich she had passed it many times and knew is as the place to go if you were lost. Her shoes were holey and thin and her dress barely covered her knobbly knees, so a lot of thin, white leg was exposed. She shivered and wrapped her woollen shawl around her. It had been her dear Mama's, so Miss Minchin couldn't take it. All that she had in her bag was Emily and her birthday present from Becky. Oh Becky! She remembered a time when she had pitied Becky. Now she envied her, she had a place to sleep at night and food. Sara had almost nothing.

She woke up against a wall in Baker Street Station. She had remembered seeing other such miseries in the same position, and at least there was under floor heating. But she was so very hungry. Miss Minchin WOULD throw her out on the day when she hadn't eaten. She reached into her homemade cloth bag and picked up her present from Becky. She saw a man passing her.

"Excuse me sir..." she began. But instead of stopping to answer he ignored her and continued on muttering under his breath about good-for-nothing ragamuffins. Sara learned a huge lesson at that moment. She realised that no one was going to like her anymore. No one would care to hear her opinion; no one wanted to be associated with someone like her. It was a disheartening thought, and if it had been Lavinia or Jessie in Sara's position, they probably would have given up and gone crawling to Miss Minchin. But Sara Crewe was different. This realisation just strengthened her resolve NOT to go back. She had her dear Papa to think of.

She looked at her things. One too-short black dress, a pair of thin holey slippers, a woollen shawl, a patched, cloth bag, a pincushion and Emily. Only two things that she could sell. She picked up Mama's shawl and Emily and regarded them. She loved them both. They were both such beautiful things and she couldn't bear parting with them, for the shawl symbolised Mama and Emily symbolised Papa. But just then the wind picked up and blew snow into Sara's face and eyes. She wrapped the shawl around her without thinking and smiled slightly at the sight of Emily on the ground. It seemed that her parents in Heaven had chosen for her.

She walked farther than she'd ever gone. She had never been farther than George Street with her maid and she had never desired to go there. It was the "rough side of town" and she had had strict instructions from Miss Minchin never to set foot in the place. Now, she needed to go into that neighbourhood. She walked down the road and smiled, seeing the shop she had been looking for. She walked in the pawnshop and looked around.

A woman of about forty was over in one corner, which was presumably the counter. She might have been pretty, but one couldn't know it as her faces was covered in enough make up she might have used a trowel to apply it. Sara had never seen anyone wear make-up, except at the circus or in the theatre. She gulped in fear. But she bravely walked over to her. "Excuse me Miss?" she said prettily. "Wotcha want lil' un?" she said in a loud and raucous voice. Sara gulped again. She was afraid and Sara Crewe did not, as a rule, become afraid. But, still in her own pretty little voice she replied, "I want to sell my doll to you." The woman laughed, or, more precisely, she cackled. The sound shot through poor, shaken Sara like a bullet. "We don't take dollies in 'ere. Be off with ya!" Sara's face fell. She tried once more. "She's very valuble and - "But the scary woman with the painted face cut her off. "VALUBLE...ya say? Hmmm...give 'er 'ere." Sara handed over Emily. The woman grabbed her with long, painted nails and her face lit up. "'Oly Christ! She's..." the woman started muttering and then looked up with a start. "I'll give you 50p for your pretty lil' dolly." She said in a wheedling voice. Sara was young, yes, but she was no fool. Emily had been 25 guineas when she was new and Sara had kept her in beautiful condition. In a voice much firmer than she felt she replied, "I won't take a penny under 20 guineas." The woman turned white, which looked rather odd with all that make-up and muttered to herself but nodded sagely. "OK, kid. You win this round."She held Emily reverently and reached inside her shirt, which appeared to be VERY low-cut at the front and Sara was a little shocked, but looked down at her short dress and said nothing. The woman counted out 20 guineas and handed them over. "Now gerrout of my shop!" she yelled and Sara promptly did so, stowing the cash in her cloth bag.

Sara was worried. She had money, but now she needed a place to stay, food and, hopefully, a good job. She cast her eyes around the square that she was in and grimly headed for another doorway. It was going to be a long, cold night...


	2. The Hardest Lesson

Sara lay awake, staring at the night sky, trying to pick out the stars in amongst the bright lights of the East End streetlights. She actually missed the Bastille, the keeper and the prisoner in the next cell. But most of all, she missed her dear Papa. It was still sinking in after all those months. She muttered it under her breath now, like Holy Text. "My Papa is dead. My Papa is gone. My Papa is dead. My Papa is gone." But Sara was a strong little person and was determined not to cry. She ran her bony little fingers through her hair and tried to sleep again.

Sara woke up to the sound of men dropping a crate near to her. So she HAD slept. That, in itself, was a blessing and Sara was grateful. Today was looking good, as most of the, admittedly light, snow had melted and the sun above her was, if not warm, certainly pleasanter than the day before. She had 20 guineas now, which she knew from experience was more than enough to rent a room and buy food for at least a couple of months and more if it was a small room.

But luck was not on her side. As Sara wrapped her shawl around her she suddenly spotted a knave grab her bag. She reached for it and managed to get it back, but not until the little scamp had got away with all of her money except the two sixpence pieces hidden at the bottom. She fell backwards into a crate knocking over the young gentleman carrying it.

"Oh Lord!" she cried, "I'm most dreadfully sorry!" The gentleman chuckled, and held out a rough, callused hand to help her up. Once she was up she introduced herself.

"Sara..." he said, "That's a real pretty name. I'm Jed."

"Thanks.... Jed." she replied, feeling shy in spite of herself. Then he inquired after her money, and she inspected he inside of her bag.

"It's almost all gone, never to be seen again." She sighed heavily, and a few tears fell from her eyes.

"Hey, cheer up sweetheart. You really ain't more than a kid are you?" He chucked again and put a friendly hand on hers. "Money ain't everything, and crying over money's no better than crying over milk on the parlour floor." She blushed furiously, and admitted she was wrong. "All right now? Goodbye." And he left.

Sara sat there for a long time. She had been a complete fool. She had spun herself a little fairy tale, that this Jed would embody the Magic and would fly her somewhere far away, where she could forget her worries. But, Sara sighed, real life wasn't like that. Real life didn't favour the good people. She wiped away her tears and stood up with a new kind of determination running through her. "Nobody said it would be easy." She muttered to herself. And it was true; she was learning a new lesson every day. But she had learnt the hardest one on that day. She had learnt to face up to reality, after having been protected from it by Miss Minchin and her school. It was a new, stronger Sara who walked away from the dock that night.


	3. Moving On

Sara rolled her shawl into her bag and hung her bag over her bony shoulder. Her stomach gave an involuntary growl. She hadn't even noticed how hungry she was until now. She felt her mouth watering at the thought of some warm broth with a thick hunk of bread. Wishful thinking, Sara thought. But she had twelvepence so with a light heart she walked she walked into a very dirty bakery. Wistfully, she thought of the bakery near Miss Minchins, which Mrs Brown kept sparkling clean and smelling of fresh bread. But she suppressed the thought - she had to forget about the past and think about the future.

She bought two small buns, using a penny of her money, and walked outside with them. As she munched them gratefully she looked into the distance. She tried to remember what it felt like to 'suppose'. She tried to throw her memory back to when she was a princess. It had only been a matter of days, yet she couldn't remember it. The new tough Sara had squeezed the old pleasant Sara out.

She shook her head hard, shaking out the thoughts out. She couldn't linger on those times - she had to move on. She needed work - fast. That was next on her agenda. She finished her buns and licked her fingers. Gathering up her things, she walked straight on resolutely. But she suddenly stopped in her tracks. She found herself staring at a graveyard.

Images of her Papa came pouring back like a flood. Even though she knew no one dead in London she walked down the aisles - almost in desperation. Then suddenly, she spotted an epitaph that made her feel strong. 'The things that matter cannot be taken away by anyone.' It really made her think. To put something like that on the home of the dead was amazing. It was so true. She sat down by the gravestone and closed her eyes. She thought long and hard about her Papa and her Mama - together at last.

"Papa?" Sara whispered. "Mama? Are you there?" and she almost thought they were. She could see their faces in front of her. "Papa...Mama...please. Tell me what to do."

"Move on." She heard her Mama's sweet voice reply. "Live life to it's fullest. Don't miss us; we'll always be there with you. In you." And with that the faces faded and Sara was alone again. But she didn't feel alone. She felt as though the whole world was there to help her. She walked away from the graveyard with a spring in her step. On a whim she plunged into a large bakery.

When she offered her services she was laughed away by the baker and his wife and was about to leave with a heavy heart when a youngish, well-dressed woman with a large smile stopped her.

"I could not help overhearing your conversation with Mr and Mrs Gardiner and you seemed very well educated." The woman said in a aristocratic but kindly voice.

"Um...thank you Ma'am." Sara stammered politely.

"Well, I was wondering if you would like to come and work for me? My children's nurse has just left to marry (and probably divorce the flighty girl). So I'm in need of a governess for my two daughters. What do you say?"

Sara couldn't say yes faster. She and Mrs Whitling strolled off towards a proper bed, real food and a warm fire.


	4. A Fresh Start

Sara gasped as she and Mrs Whitling stopped in front of the largest house she had ever seen. It was even bigger than Miss Minchin's. Mrs Whitling led her to an enormous front door and rang one of the three bells next to it. Looking behind her, she saw that Sara was looking very bemused.

"I will explain everything to you in a minute." She assured her, "The children have taken a nap and shall not wake for several hours. It will give us time to explain everything, for me to give you a tour and for you to meet the other staff."

"Thank you Ma'am." Sara said quickly, worried that if she didn't say it fast, she wouldn't pluck up the courage to say it at all. But Mrs Whitling wasn't stupid, however young she was. Though she looked like she was still in her teens, she was very obviously in charge. When a youngish, red-faced girl with a torn skirt and hair falling out of her cap Mrs Whitling took no scruples. She reprimanded the girl and made it clear what would happen if she didn't put her act together. Sara stood nervously and followed Mrs Whitling closely, for fear of getting lost and then punished on her first day.

Mrs Whitling briefly took her up to the nursery to see the children. There were three, all girls, in beds that looked like the Three Bears. In fact EVERYTHING in the room was three different sizes and the same in the day nursery. Oh, well. At least there would be less "That's mine!"/"No it's not!" arguments. The Mistress then took her downstairs into a posh living room where she perched on a soft, muslin chair, terrified of making it dirty. The Mistress told her her duties in great detail. Then she rang all three bells (those bell appeared in every room) and three people came rushing in.

One was the girl in disgrace that she had seen before, one was a tall girl with small eyes and a turned up nose and the other was a too-thin, blond-haired man with a ready smile. They introduced themselves as housemaid May, ladies maid Prudence and odd-job man Oliver. She smiled and introduced herself as Sara and the Mistress told then that she was coming to work as a nurse for the children. The smiled and seemed nice enough. They were sent away and the Mistress gave her the grand tour and she met Mrs McGregory, a friendly Scottish woman who served as the cook.

And then she heard the front door slam and the Master came in...


	5. The Master

Mrs Whitling hurried to the door and Sara hastened to follow her. The Master was a forbidding looking man, tall and well built with a frown on his handsome face. He greeted his wife with a grunt of "Hullo Beatrice" and not even a kiss. Sara was astonished at his indifference, especially as his wife was so obviously besotted. She followed him around, rang for all three servants to attend to him and chattering like a schoolgirl to him. She introduced Sara in the quickest way possible and then continued chattering like crazy.

Sara stood nearby, feeling painfully embarrassed for the young woman – who was only about fifteen. Prudence looked rather pained. She was at least years older than the Mistress, and was obviously biting her tongue, desperate to shout "Shut up! Can't you see you're making a fool of yourself?!" Sara understood how she was feeling – Sara was feeling EXACTLY the same way at that moment. Suddenly the Mistress snapped.

"Oh, Thomas! How could I have forgotten??? I shall go and get you some tea NOW! And biscuits, and bread and..."She walked out of the room. Sara was amazed that she was going herself, rather than asking the servants. She swallowed down a gasp.

"You can get out and all." The Master grunted at the servants. Sara made to leave, but the Master caught her by the arm. "You, Sara...wait. "He put his hand on her shoulder. "You're a really pretty young girl aren't you?"

Sara went red. "Excuse me Sir," she said, slightly scared, "I need to attend to the children."

"Never mind the children," The Master whispered. "Let's talk about me...and you."

Sara was terrified. "I really...need to...go."

"No you don't." purred the Master. "We've got all the time in the world."

"Your...wife-" Sara began, but could not finish as the Master kissed her, hard. She pulled away. "SIR!" She exclaimed, "Please!" She was in hysterics and had to escape.

She ran upstairs to the children. Luckily they were still asleep. Sara washed her face and calmed down a little. She was so ashamed of herself. Not only had she let the Master kiss her – she had LIKED it. She had WANTED it. She couldn't believe herself.

"Now look here, Sara Crewe." She said to herself firmly. "No more of this. The Master is married, about double your age and you could lose your job. NO MORE FLIRTING."

Then the children woke up, and her life went back to normal.


	6. Sara's New Life

Sara's new life was as interesting as it was satisfying. That is to say, not at all. Her duties were long and tiresome and very complicated and boring. The same thing happened EVERY day with no surprises and Sara's clever little head grew tired and annoyed.

Every morning she would get up at six, dress in a hideous maid uniform and tidy and dust the day nursery. She would eat her own breakfast; usually bread and milk, bread and butter and one egg on Sundays and set out clothes for the children. She would then wake the girls. Nine-year-old Georgiana dressed herself, needing only a hand with her boots and buttons, seven-year-old Maria needed a little help, but not much and four-year-old Charlotte needed to be dressed completely.

At exactly eight o' clock, May would come in and make up the fire and watch the children while Sara went downstairs to help Mrs McGregory bring up the breakfast from the kitchen. In one corner of the day nursery was a small table where the children ate. Sara had to make sure they had whatever they wanted and after breakfast would ring the bell to bring May up again to take away the plates.

After breakfast Prudence would take Charlotte away to her mother and Sara would teach Georgiana and Maria. Charlotte returned at lunchtime, along with May and the food. After lunch they would play together, go for a walk, have a nap and then go to afternoon tea with their parents. Charlotte missed out on the tea, as she had her bath now. She ate a light supper – usually a bowl of broth and a piece of bread – and went to bed. Georgiana and Maria would finish the work that they had not completed during their lessons, eat their light evening meal and then take a bath and go to bed. Then Sara would tidy the nurseries, eat supper and sleep herself.

This mayn't have been so bad if it wasn't for the Master. He had told her to call him Thomas, but she couldn't. She kept clinging to her hope that she could stay respectable, but it was useless. She was hopelessly in love. Every time he passed her in the hall her heart raced. When they were alone he would kiss her and she would kiss him back and it was like no one else mattered. Once, they had been kissing and he had run his hand down her front and fondled her budding breasts. She had gone bright red and had kissed him again, so that he would stop. She was frightened of what might happen.

Prudence knew what was going on. Or, at least, she knew Sara was in love with the Master. She promised not to tell the Mistress, but Sara was terrified that the two would bicker, and Prudence would tell her. And Prudence had told her that Oliver was madly in love with her. Sara had been shocked and embarrassed and tried to avoid Oliver. Once he had grabbed her and kissed her hard, but she had pulled away. The fire and passion that she felt for the Master wasn't there with Oliver, and probably never would be. She was so confused.

Then, about three months after she had first come to the Whitlings', everything changed…

The Mistress and Prudence were going to Bristol for three days, and John the carriage driver had gone to Bath, to visit his dying mother. Sara and the Master were alone in the house. Sara could hardly remember what happened that night.

But she definitely remember waking up pregnant…


End file.
